She shot him.
He’d been shot with a 9mm before. It felt like a bee sting, a slight tug on his left shoulder, but he kept going. Not once did he consider slowing down. The more adrenaline he had in his system, the better.
She aimed again.
He plowed right into her, throwing her to the hard ground. The gun went sprawling feet away, clattering against a discarded, rusted fender.
She struggled immediately and when he got a good look at her face, inside, he died a little. She was just a kid. Pushing that aside, he pinned her down easily. She’d landed on her backpack and looked like a toppled turtle.
The screams. She clawed at his face with her hands and then when she realized he didn’t have shoes on, she landed her boot heels hard against his feet.
“Stop. Stop it now,” he yelled.
She didn’t. Her dark brown hair slung wildly around against the asphalt as she fought him.
He had hold of her jacket, just below the lapels. She lunged for the gun, too far away, and because he thought she might get lucky, he yanked her up to a standing position.
“Stop! I mean it. I’ll punch you in the face if you don’t. Last warning!”
The girl used the strength in her legs to spring up and jump onto his bare feet with her boots. He guessed her goal was to free his grasp on her. But that wasn’t going to happen. She was the ticket to his family’s life. Searing white pain went through him on impact but he kept hold of her despite the now very painful wound in his shoulder.
He screamed and growled and then tried to catch his breath. In the meantime, he grabbed her by the hair to keep hold of her, turned her around and thrust his right arm under her neck, squeezing tightly. She didn’t weigh much more than a ham sandwich, and he hated her damn large lugged boots, but she was springy. He’d give her that. As he tried to calm his breath, so he could see straight, she tried to bite his arm. Tighter then. He squeezed. Then she was doing her best to pull his arm away to make room to suck in some air. When all else fails, give them something to do…like gasp for breath. He knew she was fading. He’d have to be careful there. He didn’t know his own strength at times, especially now.
Pulling her forward, he let her suck some air into her lungs. She choked on the freedom he allowed as he yanked the backpack off her. “Slow breaths or you’ll pass out.”
Slinging the pack over his other arm, he held her in a choke hold again, lighter this time, and pushed her the way he’d come.
Even though she was wearing down, she tried to kick him, bite him, do anything to get away from him. He thought, Good…you’re going to need to fight where you’re going.